


Warfare

by Naemi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe: Serial Killers, Angst, Drama, Dubious Consent, F/M, Mindfuck, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Promiscuity, Prompt Fic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Trust me, honey. You'll love this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warfare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slashydutchie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashydutchie/gifts).



> [Alternate Universe: Serial Killers]

They fuck everywhere, on every surface in the apartment, until the whole place is thoroughly marked theirs.

They live off the money of the rich guy whose abused body they'd left to rot deep in the Willamette National Forest; they hit a real jackpot with that one. Erica buys new furniture that they don't need and clothes that she’ll never wear. Isaac wants a muscle car, but she decides it isn't necessary; she prefers his bike, anyway. She says it's sexy, irresistible, and just like that, he buries another dream without complaint or hesitation.

It goes well for a while, but Erica isn't one to settle down, and Isaac isn't one to wander. This time, the fighting starts when he buys her a ring: white gold, simple but elegant. He doesn't propose—he's not stupid enough to think he can bind her to him in any way—but he still thought she'd like the gesture.

“It's just fucking jewelry,” he spits out when she flings the box back at him.

“I'm not your possession. This—us—” Erica gestures between them, “—is nothing but a partnership of convenience. I thought we agreed on that.”

“It used to be more,” he mumbles, but she's right about the agreement. She's always right.

“Grow up, Lahey. The only reason I keep you around is because you're handy.”

“Oh, really? I thought it's because I'm the only guy who ever made you come.”

A hard backhand is the only answer he receives.

When Erica fucks him later, her claws leave deep gauges in his skin, equally a claim and a warning, and he submits to both, like he was taught all his life. She won't let him come, and she doesn't grant him any reprieve, just keeps using and abusing him like _he_ used to do until Isaac can't help but utter the safe word.

When she dons her brand new Marni dress—no underwear—he begs her not to go, but she ignores his plea. Of course she does.

Erica returns home late the next morning smelling of vodka, sweat and cum. It makes Isaac retch, but he memorizes the scent, checks the wristband she dumped in the bathroom trash, and he'll find the club, track _him_ down, and make him pay.

It only takes a day. Erica has a thing for bartenders, always has, and Isaac's a little offended that she made it so easy.

The guy is handsome but arrogant, and even if he had not fucked his not-quite-girlfriend, Isaac still wouldn't like him. He might not drag him into a dark alley and slash his throat—but he wouldn't have liked him.

The wallet holds only little cash, but it's new black leather, so Isaac puts it in his pocket. He'd prefer to keep a different kind of trophy; for a heartbeat he considers ripping off the man's cock, just because he can, but Erica would disapprove. He's grown out of that behavior, anyway.

The scent of death that clings to him makes her nostrils flare, and she licks her lips. Her chest heaves with the attempt to draw it all in at once.

“You found him quickly,” she smirks. Her red lipstick seems like a parody of the blood Isaac wiped off his face a mere twenty minutes ago.

He shrugs, pushing past her, but he knows that she's pleased; she shows him much later that night.

They move the next day. Isaac would have loved to stay, really likes the town, but their policy is never to linger after a murder. It's too dangerous, too easy to get caught.

“Another chance,” Erica says lightly.

 _Another battlefield,_ Isaac thinks, but he smiles and kisses her cheek, and for a fraction of a heartbeat when she smiles back, he almost recognizes the girl he loves so dearly. She's gone the next instant, hidden safely underneath freshly dyed hair and green contacts. One more false identity along the way to insanity.

~ ~ ~

The couple travels in silence, always on the lookout for the next potential big catch, or at least a quick, clean kill for pleasure (hers more than his, but that's okay).

There's this girl at a Burley gas station who flirts with Isaac; he fucks her in the bathroom, against a dirty wall and without much enthusiasm. Erica follows her home. He doesn't need her to tell him what she did to her, how she laughed when the girl begged for mercy. He jacks off to the thought that Erica may still love him, too.

In a Salt Lake City hotel bar, they find a businessman who's interested enough in both of them to buy them drinks all night and invite them to his room later. Isaac breaks his neck as the guy comes down Erica's throat. Then, he fucks her on the floor, right beside the dead body, fucks her until she screams his name.

She cuddles up with him afterwards, something she rarely does anymore. He strokes her hair, kisses her neck and feels almost alive, but when he makes the mistake of whispering sweet words, she turns away. They sleep on either side of the bed, but it might as well be on either side of the Great Salt Lake.

Both murders are all over the papers the next day, but the couple's well into Wyoming by that time. They stop in Riverton, for supplies and a strip show. The full moon's only a few hours away, and it always has them itching for sex and violence more than usual, so much that it never ends well. It's those nights that they're furthest apart, hunter and prey, instead of two predators running side by side.

One of the strippers catches Erica's attention. She murmurs to Isaac, nips the request into his neck, right above his pulse. Although his heart clenches, his cock responds in anticipation when Erica promises him that he can have the girl any way he pleases.

His charm isn't enough, but two neatly folded Benjamins lure the stripper, Jewel—“Whatever, honey. We don't care.”—to their hotel room. Erica watches them from an armchair, legs splayed out, fingers moving over her clit in slow circles. Isaac can barely keep his eyes off her; he wants her more than anything else in the world, but he focuses on Jewel instead, fucks her with his tongue and fingers until she writhes and keens. When he shifts to rim her, she tries to back away, but he won't let her.

“Trust me, honey. You'll love this,” Erica snickers.

Isaac shoots her a look, and her eyes glow amber. He shakes his head infinitesimally, but he keeps going, holds Jewel down with more strength than necessary, leaving dark bruises on her hips.

“Fuck her, baby. Fuck her tight little ass for me.”

And he does.

Jewel puts up quite a fight. Isaac slaps her face, covers her mouth, but she won't stop screaming, not even when Erica sits on her face, muffling her desperate pleas. She guides his hands around Jewel's neck, makes him choke her, shake her, until the girl goes limp.

Erica finds it ultimately funny, but he isn't so sure; the thrill of violence is overshadowed by the realization that he'd rather close his hands around Erica's throat right now, rather squeeze the life out of her than of this poor soul who was so unfortunate to come across them.

For the first time in a year, he feels sorry for victimizing someone. For the first time since Erica saved him from his father's calloused hands, he wishes she hadn't.

He comes on Jewel, not in her, unwilling to grant Erica this particular kill.

She's on him in a blink, her disappointment raining down on him in harsh words that he tries to ignore and claws that he doesn't bother to dodge.

“You’ve got me,” he says calmly, despite her outburst. “What more do you need?” A single tear rolls down his cheek, the acid burning his already healing skin.

Erica stills. For a moment, she seems hurt, but a knock on the door wipes that look off her face, erases that slim chance of keeping their sanity for just one full moon's night.

She throws the door open, all tousled hair and half-naked glory, startling the cop who came to “investigate some loud screaming that was reported.”

“Some people like it rough, officer. That's not a crime, is it?”

“No. I'm sorry, Miss,” he says with a deep blush, but he peeks past her, frowns at the scratches on Isaac's face, reaches for his weapon when he notices the lifeless figure on the bed.

It happens so fast that Isaac still stands rooted to the spot when the man's down on the floor unconscious, blood gushing out of several deep claw wounds. He doesn't move when Erica points the gun at him, either.

“There's no point in shooting me,” he says, wishing there were. “But go ahead. If it makes you feel better.”

Erica's laughter seems obscenely out of place. She kicks the door closed, circles him, still holding him at gunpoint. “For a moment, you almost had me, you know? Shedding tears . . . that really reminds me of how we met. Remember that?”

“Clearly.” The confirmation leaves Isaac's mouth against his will.

“I'll never forget that night. You were so beautiful. So helpless. Broken. Sometimes, when I fuck you, I close my eyes and conjure the memory. How he thrust into you, how you fisted the sheets and cried into my lap. But you never stopped. He trained you well, bastard or not.”

“You're sick,” Isaac spits out, but he still doesn't move, endures the humiliation without as much as flinching; his racing heartbeat and the tears that are now flowing free are the only signs of his pain.

“Not any more than you are.” Erica snickers. “Well, maybe a little. You know, I really pitied you that night. When I ripped his heart out, I really thought it would set you free. Instead, you threw yourself at me. Pathetic, don't you think?”

Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, willing the lump of hatred in his throat to go away.

“It took me a while to realize you really loved your daddy. I'm sorry I killed him, sweetheart. I'm really just trying to make up for your loss now. But you know that, don't you? That's why you're still here.”

Erica steps closer, trailing the barrel of the gun down Isaac's bare chest.

“That's why you still love me, right? Because I cater to the darkness that flowed through your veins long before the bite. And I never judge.”

He won't give her the satisfaction of admitting it, but it's still true. Every word is true; she's right, always was, always will be, and he loves her despite it. It's sick and wrong, but, “I am who I am.”

Erica stands on her tiptoes and kisses him sweetly. “I wouldn't want you to be any different,” she purrs against his lips. “I wouldn't bother with you if you weren't like me.”

When she presses the gun between his legs, he lets her.

She wins.

This time.

~ ~ ~

“Another chance.” Erica smiles. The smell of fresh hair dye is sharp in the air. Her new look is straight out of a thirties gangster movie, and Isaac can't help but smile back.

“I guess so,” he says lightly.

They don't have much money left to live off, but they don't need much where they're going this time.

It goes well for a while. It always does. At some point, one of them will start another fight, and before the next full moon they'll be back at the same chapter again, where one will be the prey, will be torn apart layer by layer until all resistance is extinguished.

One of these days, they'll go too far. Isaac can't tell who will snap first, but he thinks it might be him. He loves Erica too much to let her slip away fully, but he won't dive into the abyss to catch her when she falls either.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Rounds of Kink** Round 23. Prompt [Depraved hearts are meant to be. Love crimes are destiny. If cupid doesn't kill them all, there'll be an anniversary.] and kink [Possessiveness or jealousy] submitted by  slashydutchie.
> 
> I may have been carried away. Oops.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
